Shut Up and Dance
by The Yankee Countess
Summary: After a recent break-up, Tom's friends convince him to get out of the flat and take him of all places to a club. He has no intention of leaving the bar, however when he sees a beautiful and vivacious dancer who beckons him to join her, he can't help but suddenly feel that this woman may be his destiny. Modern AU
1. Chapter 1

_Hello! Ok, first off, this is my birthday present to the lovely and wonderful **shana-rosee**, who is a most awesome S/T cheerleader and probably the sweetest person on the planet :o) Happy birthday my dear! This is a 3-part fic that I hope to update and complete during the week, but right now, on your birthday, here is part one!_

_Just a little more info before we get going. So two weeks ago I heard this song on the radio by the group, _Walk the Moon_. The song (like this story) was titled "Shut Up and Dance (with me)". I immediately fell in love with this song and it gave me some really strong Sybil/Tom vibes. I then went to Youtube and found the music video, and not only laughed at the goofiness of it all, but again thought that the idea in the song/video might make for a great little modern AU. SO THAT IS HOW THIS STORY CAME INTO BEING! That, and I thought it would make for a great contribution to April's "rock the AU" theme of "romantic comedy"._

_Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and once again, **HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHANA-ROSEE!**_

* * *

**Shut Up and Dance  
**_**by The Yankee Countess**_

_Part I_

"Come on, on your feet," Thomas ordered before pouring himself a shot of whiskey; _Tom's _whiskey.

Tom groaned and looked up at his friend who always made a face when he drank the stuff. "I've changed my mind," he began, but Thomas was already shaking his head, refusing to listen to whatever excuse he attempted to give.

"No going back," Thomas coughed after swallowing the shot, then poured one for Tom and handed him the glass. "Come on, drink up, then we go."

He took the glass but shook his head. "I'm not going," he muttered.

"Yes you are," Thomas insisted.

"No I'm not!" He was trying to sound serious, but it was coming out as petulant. "I'm not going…clubbing."

"Well you're not staying here to mope another night away," Thomas countered.

Tom glared up at his friend. "I do not 'mope'," he muttered.

"Fine, 'pout' then."

"I don't 'pout' either!"

"Well whatever you want to call it, you're not staying here doing it!" Thomas argued. "Tom, mate—it's been three weeks."

Tom groaned and rolled his eyes, before taking that shot as Thomas began his speech all over again.

"Edna was a calculating, gold-digging bitc—"

"Don't call her that," Tom interrupted, giving Thomas a look of warning.

Thomas rolled his eyes. "She doesn't deserve your defense any more than she deserves you moping over your break-up. I highly doubt she's feeling half the sadness and regret you're feeling."

At that, Thomas was probably right. Edna made it quite clear when Tom had caught her and his now former flatmate in bed together that she had "moved on", thus shedding light to something he had been denying for some time: their relationship was a complete joke. And if truth be told, that was the reason to his "moping", as Thomas called it; he was more upset that he had been so blind and foolish in attempting to keep a bad relationship going, rather than feeling heartbroken over the discovery of his girlfriend cheating on him.

Thomas was right; he needed to stop throwing this pity party for one. Still, was "clubbing" really the answer?

"You just need to get out and meet someone new," Thomas explained, obviously believing he had won this whole argument (and in a manner of speaking, he had).

Tom frowned at the suggestion. "I don't think I'm ready to start another relationship."

"Who said anything about that? Just find some nice girl to take home and shag."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Have you forgotten that 'home' right now is your couch?"

"For you, mate, I'd lend you my bedroom," Thomas grinned.

"Wow. You're a true romantic."

"Just call me Cupid," Thomas winked, which did bring a small smile to Tom's lips. He gave a great sigh, and then pushed himself up from the very couch that was serving as his bed for the time being.

"Fine, I'll go," he groaned, which naturally had Thomas smirking triumphantly. "But just to be clear," he added. "I'm going as I am—" which caused Thomas to roll his eyes and frown as he assessed Tom's present wardrobe. "—and I'll spend my time at the bar."

"Oh come on," Thomas groaned in exasperation. "You can't go to a club and spend the entire time drinking!"

_Like hell I can't,_ Tom thought to himself. "I agreed to leave the flat and go to the club with you; I didn't promise I would be social."

"Fine," Thomas sighed, clearly seeing that this wasn't a battle worth fighting, (and it wasn't). "But promise me this," he attempted. "If some girl does take pity on your undeserving arse—" Tom couldn't help but laugh at that. "—you won't let your stubborn Irish pride get in the way and keep yourself from exploring the possibility of…_something_ happening, yeah?"

Tom looked at Thomas for a long moment and then with a shrug of his shoulders, nodded his head. "Yeah, fine," he murmured. "But it's not going to happen."

"Not with _that_ attitude!" Thomas scoffed, which again had Tom chuckling.

* * *

It wasn't so bad, Tom had to admit. The club was active, but it wasn't overly crowded, which he was grateful for; he didn't fancy being shoved every which way. Yet by that same token, it wasn't sparse. There were plenty of people laughing and dancing, which meant that no one would really miss or notice him, so he could sneak away to the bar and drink in peace.

Their other friends, William and Jimmy, were also there; apparently Thomas was so confident that he'd convince Tom to leave the flat that he had made arrangements for their friends to meet them there. He was just grateful Thomas hadn't gone the extra measure to try and push any of their female acquaintances at him.

"_What do you think of Gwen? She's a looker…if you like that sort of thing."_ That "sort of thing", meaning, "women".

Tom remembered how Thomas had suggested Gwen as a possible "rebound" (somewhat in jest…somewhat) shortly after he had moved in with him. Thomas had also suggested himself, in case Tom wanted to swear off women in general. He politely turned his friend down on both counts.

Speaking of Gwen, she was there, though Tom knew that despite Thomas' suggestion, it wasn't him she was interested in but William, who was smiling and talking to and trying to convince to join her on the dance floor. William wasn't too different from Tom, in terms of having broken up with someone not so long ago. The difference being that William had truly been in love with Daisy, whereas Tom wasn't sure he could say that about Edna, at least not by the time things had ended between them.

Tom was at the bar, enjoying a bottle of Carlsberg and watching his friends laugh and talk and even dance. Thomas was a natural, and really took command of the floor. Jimmy was also very popular, especially with women (much to Thomas' frustration), and William, though shy, was being drawn out of his shell thanks to Gwen and her contagious laughter.

He was happy for his friends, truly. And while he would be loath to admit this, he was actually glad he had let Thomas convince him to come.

That being said, he still had no intention of leaving the bar. No, he was perfectly fine and content with sitting there and "people watching"—

A flash of gold caught his eye.

Actually, it was one of the club's many disco balls from overhead, catching the gleam of some girl's earring, the sparkle of which momentarily blinding him. Tom lifted his hand to shield his eyes, while at the same time trying to see where the light had come from…

She was bouncing her head in time with the music, which naturally caused light to bounce from her dancing earrings. She had dark hair, which had been pulled back and was done up in a messy style (or perhaps it simply looked that way because it was becoming lose due to her movements?). If she cared, she didn't show it, she simply laughed and grinned and continued moving as the music thumped and flowed all around her.

She spun in place several times, and Tom watched her as she moved. She didn't seem to be dancing with one particular person…because she would spin and laugh and dance with one partner, before spinning and grinning and dancing with another. No, she had no single partner, _the club_ was her partner, and as people sometimes did with Thomas or Jimmy when they danced, bodies parted to give her more room to spin and swing and bounce and move every which way her heart desired.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. There was just something…_enchanting_ about her.

Tom watched as she continued to move around on the dance floor, completely carefree, dancing to whatever steps and rhythm she wanted to dance to, a living embodiment to the phrase "marching to the beat of a different drummer" (only in this case, it was "dancing"). But no one seemed to mind that she was doing what she was doing, in fact every person she encountered on that dance floor just seemed to smile and laugh and even cheer for her—she had that kind of effect on people.

…Including him.

Tom wasn't aware that he had been smiling as he watched her (or that he had even been leaning away from the bar), until she turned her beautiful face towards him and their eyes locked.

He nearly fell off the barstool he had been sitting on.

Despite the smoke and lights of the club, Tom could see her eyes clearly—deep and blue and…and beautiful.

Her lips curled into a sweet smile, and she lifted a hand to wave at him.

Tom found himself stupidly looking around, thinking she had to be waving at someone else, someone she knew, some lucky bastard she fancied or was dating, because there was no reason whatsoever that she would be waving at…him.

But she was. And his eyes started to widen as she began to move towards the bar…and to be specific, towards _him!_

"Hi!" she greeted, practically shouting over the loud bass that flooded the space around them. "I'm Sybil!"

_Sybil._ Not the sort of name a person heard too often. Lovely and unique…like her.

Tom swallowed the lump that was lodged in his throat and somehow managed to say his name back. "Tom…"

"What!?"

"Tom!" he repeated, a little louder so she could hear. "Tom Branson!"

She grinned then—grinned! And it was dazzling to see.

She reached for his Carlsberg and Tom thought she was going to take a drink. _Offer to buy her one, you idiot! _But he was wrong, because she simply put the bottle back on the bar, before taking his now free hands in hers and with a gentle but firm tug, pulling him up off the barstool and away from the bar.

He stared at her with wide eyes as she began to lead him away, her intentions becoming more and more obvious the closer they drew to the dance floor. "Um…?" he started to look back over his shoulder, but was stopped short by the feel of her fingers cupping his chin.

"Don't look back," she told him, her voice softer but somehow so much clearer, despite the heavy base that continued to thump.

"But—?"

"Just keep your eyes on me," she continued, her smile, like her confidence, simply illuminating.

They were in the middle of the dance floor by that point, and despite his own personal nervousness (he wasn't a great dancer) and the odd sense of surrealism (was this really happening? Did this beautiful girl just pluck him of all people, out of an entire room of willing partners?), he couldn't help but smile back at her and even cheekily reply, "You're holding back."

She threw her head back and laughed, a wonderful, husky (and sexy) sound, before tugging his hands which were still entwined with hers, pulling him towards her so close that their faces were only a few inches apart, before huskily murmuring, "shut up and dance with me."

Only a fool would refuse, and while Tom had done many foolish things in his life, so help him this was not going to be one of them!

* * *

"You and Sybil were looking mighty 'cozy' there," Thomas teased as both he and Tom made their journey back to Thomas' flat.

Tom was in a strange place; a part of him was feeling elated, like he was on cloud nine, like he was Fred Astaire and could defy gravity. The other part of him was downhearted, because his very own Ginger Rogers had disappeared after their time together on the dance floor.

Why had she gone? They were having such a grand time, or so he had thought. She laughed and grinned and seemed to genuinely enjoy his company and so long as the music and base played, the two of them continued to dance, even to the point where Tom felt so bold to move his arms around her, which she didn't protest to, in fact it seemed to encourage her to weave her arms around him…

They weren't "bumping and grinding" the way many couples did on the dance floor, this wasn't like that. But they had been close, their bodies touching, their hands stroking…hers on his forearms and biceps, squeezing the muscles there, while his own floated up and down the silky smoothness of her arms, before settling on her waist, and then even moving down to caress her hip.

But like the clock chiming midnight, signaling for Cinderella to leave the ball, the music eventually changed to a slower rhythm, and much to Tom's disappointment, Sybil started to move away, her hands catching his and giving them what he wanted to believe was an affectionate squeeze, before murmuring, "thanks for the dance, Tom Branson."

Then she leaned up, kissed his cheek, and with a flip of beautiful tousled brown hair, she danced away into the shadows, leaving the floor entirely.

…Had she been real? Had he imagined her? He would have thought that possible, if Thomas hadn't come up to him shortly after and slapped him hard on the back, congratulating him for "rejoining the human race".

"Do you know her?" Tom asked, turning to look at his friend as they continued on their journey back. After Sybil had left, Tom didn't see much point in staying, and Thomas didn't fight him on it, he just seemed to be happy that Tom had made that much of an effort for the evening.

Thomas shook his head. "No, but Gwen does," he explained. "They're childhood friends; grew up together in Yorkshire, though I thought Gwen had said something about how her family used to work for Sybil's family or…something. I don't know, but it sounded like Sybil was posh…or her family was posh, something like that."

"Is she staying with Gwen?" Tom asked, perhaps a bit too eagerly. However, if Thomas said "yes", he had a right mind to ask Thomas where Gwen lived so he could knock on her door and ask—

"No, she's got family here in London; staying with them. _And_ she's leaving tomorrow," he added, and Tom felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. Thomas seemed to notice Tom's disheartened expression and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "Sorry, mate."

Tom tried to cover up his disappointment and forced a smile. If anything, he should be thanking Thomas for convincing him to go to the club, otherwise he would never have met her, even if it had only been for one night.

"Hey!" Thomas nudged Tom with his shoulder. "I'm sure she'll be back at some point; Gwen can always let us know if and when she's in town, yeah?"

Tom forced his smile a little more and nodded his head in agreement. _But who knows when that will be?_

"Ah, don't take it so hard," Thomas sighed. "If anything, tonight just proved that you're ready to move forward, right?"

"Right," Tom answered softly, his mind going back to when he had first noticed Sybil, to watching her dance, to being enchanted by her, to being drawn to his feet and persuaded to dance with her…

"_Don't look back; just keep your eyes on me…"_

He was sad, disappointed that she was gone, and the cynical side of him, the part that had been berating himself after his break-up with Edna, was already screaming that it didn't matter if and when he saw her again, because it was impossible to believe someone like her could be single, that she didn't have a string of admirers, perhaps even a boyfriend already, back in Yorkshire, waiting for her to return, and that he was just some random guy she took a momentary fancy to and decided to entertain herself with by asking him to dance with her…

Yet the other part of him, the part ruled more so by his heart, told that cynical voice to shut up. And as his mind danced through the memories of their all too brief encounter, he couldn't help but smile and quietly think to himself...

_This woman is my destiny._

_To be continued..._

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed! Parts 2 and 3 will be posted this week. Also, I highly recommend at the very least listening to the song (though you should look for the video too!) You can find links to both on my blog on tumblr. Thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Here's the next installment! Thanks so much for reading and thanks to those of you who left reviews and shared your thoughts! Just one more chapter after this one...will Tom and his mysterious "dancing queen" be reunited? Well what do you think? ;oP Hehehehe, enjoy! Oh, and a special shout-out to **syblime** who I know is a lover of William/Gwen. I think you'll be happy by this little extra somethin' somethin' I threw in :oP_

* * *

Part II

_Eight months later…_

"Tom, change your clothes," Thomas announced as he proceeded to walk right into his flat. "We're going out."

Tom frowned and stared after Thomas as he made himself cozy in Tom's kitchen, going straight to his refrigerator and checking to see what booze he had on hand. "Ugh, could you be any more of a stereotype?" Thomas groaned as he pulled out a bottle of Jamesons and a can of Guinness.

Tom opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped short by two other people entering the flat.

"Hey Tom! You ready?" William asked.

"Does he look ready?" Thomas muttered, his eyes still trying to decide which of Tom's choices for booze to drink.

"Ready for…what's going on?" Tom demanded, glaring at Thomas and rolling his eyes as Jimmy, without permeable, helped himself to a Guinness.

"Give me that," Thomas took the can of stout from Jimmy's hand and took a swig, before making a face and practically pushing it back to Jimmy. "You heard what I said!" Thomas coughed, turning his attentions back to Tom. "Change your clothes and get ready! We're going out."

"Out where?" Tom demanded, not moving and trying desperately to hold onto his patience.

"Out…out!" Thomas muttered in exasperation. "Just…out!"

Tom rolled his eyes, memories of a similar evening practically eight months ago quickly returning. Well…not that those memories ever went away, not completely. Certainly not the memories about Sybil…

No, in all honesty, not a single day had gone by since that night when she had literally danced into his life that he didn't think of her…

"You need to get out," Thomas announced, breaking through his thoughts.

Tom frowned. "I do 'get out'," he argued, folding his arms across his chest. "We were at the pub two nights ago."

"Exactly, the _PUB_," Thomas emphasized. "And _maybe_ the cinema every so often, but other than that…_that's it!_ You spend the rest of your nights cooped up here, and don't think I don't know why."

Thomas was pointing an "accusatory" finger at him, and Tom had a right mind to reach out and slap it away. "You know I'm not a 'clubber', you've always known that about me—"

Jimmy's laugh cut him short. "You seemed to be 'otherwise' when you and Gwen's mate hit that dance floor," he snickered.

"Exactly," Thomas added. "You moped then because of your break-up with Edna, now you're moping because you haven't seen Sybil since that one night."

Tom didn't like Sybil being compared to Edna; the two were completely different! Though in all fairness, he didn't really know Sybil; good grief, he didn't even known her last name! Yet he honestly felt a deeper connection with her in those first four and a half seconds when their eyes locked, than in the four and a half months he and Edna had been dating. And what Thomas was calling "moping" was completely different too. With Edna, he had been more upset that he had allowed their poisonous relationship to last for as long as it did. With Sybil…

He missed her. He missed her and kept hoping that every day for the last eight months would be the day he would learn through William or Thomas or even Gwen that she was back in London. Or, he would be out and about and just see her somewhere (he would recognize that beautiful mass of frizzy dark hair anywhere). And even though he knew based on what Thomas had told him that she had gone back up to Yorkshire, he still kept coming to the club where they had danced every weekend for the next ten weeks in a row, just in case…just in case he saw her and smiled at him from across the room before walking confidently up to him and without a word, simply taking him by the arm and pulling him out onto the dance floor.

But no such luck.

By week ten, Gwen (who had just started dating William), reassured him that Sybil _always_ got in touch with her before she came back to London, and promised to let him know whenever she was back in town. Tom felt it was Gwen's way of "putting him out of his misery", because he always looked so disappointed (like a wounded puppy) when another weekend passed and there was still no sign of her.

God, he had it bad. This was crazy, wasn't it? People just didn't do things like this…did they? "Love at first sight" was just something put in fairytales…wasn't it?

"Tom!"

He was once again brought of his thoughts by Thomas' somewhat exasperating tone.

"Why are you still standing there? COME ON! Change your clothes and let's go!"

Tom groaned and shook his head. "If I'm going to be dragged out of my own flat against my will, I'll go as I am, thanks very much."

Thomas opened his mouth to protest otherwise, but William spoke first. "Just leave it," he urged, to which Thomas rolled his eyes before muttering something under his breath, and moving past them back out of the flat.

Tom locked up and followed his friends, trying to mentally and emotionally prepare himself for their destination.

Yes, he had visited that club for ten weeks straight, but it wasn't as if he had put his entire life "on hold" while he waited and hoped to see Sybil again. No, he had gotten himself back on his feet after his break-up with Edna (and moving out and away from his lying, cheating flatmate), and soon found a place of his own. It was tiny, but it was clean and it wasn't far from the garage where he worked. He had also started writing freelance, for a political magazine he had always admired. Things were good, at least from a work perspective. But despite the encouragement from his friends about "getting out into the dating scene" again, he politely refused. How could even fathom the thought, when every time the image of Sybil popped into his brain, his heart kept repeating over and over_, "this woman is my destiny"._

"Gwen meeting us there?" Tom asked William. William nodded, a bashful smile spreading across his face. They seemed happy, the pair of them, and Tom was glad.

"She said she had a surprise," William told Tom, to which Tom felt his body tense at the words.

_Calm down, it might not mean anything…_

…But it could mean _everything! _

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at the club, Tom having picked up the pace after William's revelation. They were soon inside and Tom was scanning the crowd, both for William's girlfriend as well as that beautiful head of dark frizzy hair.

"HEY!" Gwen announced, quickly moving to where her boyfriend and his best mates were standing. She smiled and greeted William with a kiss which instantly caused William's ears to burn red. She then turned her attentions to the rest of the group and smiled, especially at Tom. "Great to see you out!"

Tom smiled back, but he couldn't help but look over Gwen's shoulder, continuing to scan the crowd, trying to see if just maybe…just maybe…

"You said you had a surprise?" William asked his girlfriend, and Tom couldn't help but wonder if maybe his friend was aware of what he was doing and as Gwen had done all those months ago, was trying to put him out of his misery.

"Oh yeah!" Gwen grinned and then pointed over her shoulder. Tom followed her finger, his eyes wide and—

"Oh wow!" William gasped, smiling and waving his hand as a petite blonde grinned and quickly came over to hug and embrace him. "Anna, it's so good to see you! It's been ages!"

"You too!" the blonde (Anna) laughed, before waving her hand at some bloke and introducing the man as her husband.

It was difficult for Tom not to look disappointed by this turn of events. _You shouldn't have gotten your hopes up, if she had been here, Gwen would have said something. Idiot!_ Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to slip out and get out of there.

"Tom?" William turned his head and had noticed him backing away. "Tom, where are you going?"

Tom just lifted a hand. "Sorry…just…make my excuses to Thomas and Jimmy," he mumbled.

"Excuses for what?" Thomas asked, appearing by his side and holding some kind of blue concoction.

Tom sighed. "I'm going."

"Wait—what?" Thomas looked at William then back at Tom. "You just got here!"

"Yeah, and now I'm leaving!" he said with a bit more force. "Look, I'll call you tomorrow, ok?" He sighed and started to turn away again, when a hand reached out from nowhere and grabbed his shoulder. He groaned and turned, prepared to shove Thomas away, but stopped short when his eyes met the deep blue eyes that had been haunting his dreams for the past eight months.

_It's her…_

Sybil.

She…she was here?

His eyes first went to William and Gwen, who were grinning rather knowingly; they did know she would be here. He quickly turned his attention back to Sybil, and once again his mouth fell open and his eyes widened as he took in the beautiful sight of her. Her wild hair seemed a bit more tamed than last time, and it hung in glossy waves down and around her shoulders which were creamy and bare. Her dress was frilly and black, and he soon realized even before she turned away from him that it was backless. She smiled then, and Tom swore his heart stopped beating (or maybe it increased?)

"Don't go yet," she murmured, her voice somewhere between a purr and a plea.

"I—" He had started to turn his head, but just like before she reached out and grabbed his arm, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

"Don't you dare look back," she giggled, before slowly starting to back her way towards the dance floor. "Just keep your eyes on me…"

As if he would dare to. No, after all this time of waiting and hoping she would return, he wasn't going to let her out of his sight!

She smiled and gave his arm a squeeze, before releasing him and moving further into the throng on the dance floor. Tom stood frozen and watched as she turned her back (allowing him a glimpse of even more creamy skin), before doing a little spin, her hands gripping the edges of her dress and giving it a flirtatious flip, before laughing and yes, even winking at him!

"Don't just stand there!" Thomas hissed into his ear. "Your 'discothèque Juliet teenage dream' has finally arrived!"

Tom would later laugh at Thomas' title for Sybil, but right now he could only propel himself forward, not stopping until he was at Sybil's side once more. The music was thumping at full blast, and Tom could tell even before he had reached her that she was in her own world, moving and spinning to whatever rhythm her body chose to follow. For a moment, he just admired her…admired her freedom and spirit, seeing so much beauty in that. He even grinned when he realized that despite the frilly black backless dress, she also wore a pair of trainers (red shoes—naturally).

She looked over her shoulder at him and returned his grin, and danced a bit closer, her hands falling onto his forearms and squeezing the muscle, before moving up until she reached his shoulders. She could easily dance circles around him, and quite frankly, he'd be perfectly fine with that. "You're holding back," found himself murmuring again, and it was true, she was.

But she just laughed and her hands moved from his shoulders to the lapels of his shirt, and with two hearty fistfuls, she pulled him even closer, their heads nearly knocking into each other, before she repeated as she had done that first night they met, "shut up and dance with me."

Tom grinned and without another word, moved his arms around her, his hands flat against her back, both of them gasping at the contact of his palms on her bare skin. He pulled her closer, and this time they both moaned at the electric feel of their chests touching. They were still clothed, yet Tom had to be honest and admit this was quite possibly the most sensual experience of his life. Together, their bodies moved to the music, Sybil leading and Tom happily following. Again, they weren't bumping and grinding, but there was something erotic about the way they danced. They were always touching in some form, whether it was her hand against his chest, or his upon her hip. At one point she even dipped herself (putting her trust in him that he would catch her before she fell backwards—and he did), and his hand moved down the length of her thigh to catch the back of her knee and hold her there even when he brought her back upright.

They were both gasping and Tom wondered if that was because of the heat of the room and the hundreds of bodies around them, or the fire that was clearly generating and burning between them?

Her fingers were at the back of his neck, and Tom felt them curl and skim the hairs there. His eyes fell to her lips, which were so close, and found his own mouth parting, yearning to bend his head and taste them…

"You grew your hair out…"

His eyes snapped back up to hers. She was blushing, and looked rather bashful.

He blushed too, and suddenly felt a little embarrassed. "I um…yeah, I did," he swallowed. It wasn't long, just…longer than it had been when she had last seen him. He wasn't crazy about it, he just thought he would try something new. But if Sybil disliked it, she didn't say so. She just smiled at him, and he felt his heart squeeze in his chest.

"Your hair looks different too," he found himself saying, before mentally kicking himself. However, if she had taken offense, she didn't show it. Instead, she just laughed and blushed once again.

"Yeah, it has a mind of its own," she sighed, looking a little sheepish. "My sister told me to try this new shampoo and gel…it seems to work…to a point," she explained with a laugh.

Tom couldn't help but grin…nor could he help lifting a hand to run through the dark tresses. Sybil's laughter faded then, but she didn't protest or jerk away. She stood perfectly still for perhaps the first time that whole evening, and Tom swallowed as his fingers touched the silken waves. So beautiful...everything about her was so damn beautiful…

"How long are you in London?" he found himself asking. There was a plea to his voice, a need to know.

She blushed and looked down, and before she said anything, Tom could feel his heart sink.

"Just for the weekend," she softly murmured. "I go back on Sunday."

Sunday. It was Friday night now.

"And tomorrow?" he asked, not wanting to miss any opportunity to be with her.

She bit her lip. "I…I'm visiting my aunt this weekend," she tried to explain. "Tomorrow's her birthday…"

Despite his efforts, Tom knew he had failed to hide his disappointment. _What did you think, you idiot? That she had come down here after eight months just to see you? _The cynical voice of doubt began to berate him. Yet…when he looked back at her, his eyes holding hers, despite that voice's best efforts to bring him down, his spirit remained uplifted and hopeful. Just as he had known that night eight months ago that she was bound to return, that they were bound to get together, so too did he now know that despite this revelation, truly, he and Sybil were bound to be together.

_This woman is my destiny…_

"If you don't mind me asking…" he cleared his throat and summoned his courage. "…When is your aunt expecting you back?"

Sybil looked at him…and her face turned beautifully pink while the corners of her mouth lifted, before she answered, "Knowing my aunt, she's already in bed. And I told her not to wait up for me…"

Tom swallowed and couldn't help but smile back at her. "Well…um…would you…I mean…I don't suppose—"

"Yes," Sybil answered, her smile dazzling and her fingers finding his hand and linking with his own.

_Don't you dare look back_, he firmly told himself.

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

_Here it is! The conclusion to this little tale, inspired by a song that just gave me all sorts of S/T feels. Fair warning, if you're a lover of Gwen/William, there's quite a bit of that in this chapter too :oP Again, happy birthday to **shana-rosee**, and thanks again for reading this little story! Updates to other fics will soon follow (and I haven't forgotten about LCJ, oh eager reviewer; just please be patient). But I hope you enjoy! And without further ado..._

* * *

Part III

_Four months later…_

The blaring sound of his alarm broke through his dreams and with a groan he reached out and hit the annoying clock, knocking it to the ground. He rolled over onto his other side, his arms instinctively reaching out as if to hold something, though there was nothing there. There hadn't been anything there for four months…

At that thought his eyes reluctantly opened, and as he always did, he gazed at the pillow she had once used, trying to once again imagine her beautiful head lying upon it. The thought made him smile, as well as sigh sadly—God, he missed her; mornings were always the hardest.

His mind wandered back again to that night, four months ago, when they had met again and danced. An impromptu date suddenly took place; they left the club together, not bothering to say anything to anyone, and took to the streets of London, wandering up and down every alleyway and through practically every borough (or at least through the ones close by). They took the tube to wherever they fancied: Charring Cross, Piccadilly, Oxford Street, even Abbey Road. Along the way, he bought fish and chips and they both sat in a near-deserted park, under a canopy of stars, eating their meal and laughing as they continued talking and exchanging stories and just getting to know each other better and better. Apparently, the little Thomas knew about her was true: she was posh, or had come from a posh family. Her father was an earl, for God's sake! Which technically meant she was _Lady_ Sybil, though she loathed the title. Her family had an estate (a bleedin' estate!) up in Yorkshire, where Gwen's mother still worked as housekeeper (which explained how Sybil and Gwen knew each other growing up). Sybil herself actually lived in York now, where she was finishing her final year of nurses training. He would never have guessed that about her, but he was quickly convinced as he listened to her passionately talk about nursing and how in her opinion, nurses were the unsung heroes of any medical practice, the ones who truly reached out to the care and comfort of all patients and saw them as people, something she felt doctors sometimes forgot.

They continued to talk for hours and hours, and never seemed to run out of something to say. It just felt so easy and natural to just…be with her like this. _This woman is my destiny…_

They were eventually shooed out of the park by a wandering policeman, but Sybil wasn't ready to return to Eaton Square where her aunt lived. And honestly, without meaning to, they found themselves back at his place.

He would be lying if he claimed that desire wasn't coursing through him. But he didn't push or make a suggestion or even try to kiss her (though he desperately wanted to). Just as dancing with her and talking for hours on end seemed so natural, so too did lying beside her on his bed. They fell asleep like that, her body (still clothed) curled into his (also still clothed), with his arm around her waist, holding her close.

"_And you didn't shag!?"_ Thomas had exclaimed. Why was _he_ so exasperated? _"After eight months of pining, she's finally back in London and you have her IN YOUR BED and…_nothing!?"

It wasn't "nothing", as Thomas seemed to think. Tom didn't regret that night, not in the slightest. Holding her like that may have been one of the most intimate experiences he had ever had. And he smiled at the memory of waking early the next morning, the sun just rising over the rooftops outside, a few rays streaming into the room and creating a soft glow about her.

He was in love. Hopelessly, utterly, and completely. He knew in that early morning moment as he gazed at her beautiful sleeping face that he loved her, and he felt it grow more and more with each passing day since.

Tom sighed and slowly forced himself to sit up. Four months since that night…four months since she had slept in his arms, then woke to catch a cab and return to her aunt's. His eyes drifted to the window by his bed, where he could see the street below, where he remembered standing with her as she waited for her cab, neither of them speaking, but both of them touching in some way, whether it was linked hands or his arm around her shoulders and hers around his waist.

"_When will you be back?"_ he couldn't help but ask. _Please don't let it be another eight months…_

"_I'm nearly done with school…"_ she told him. "_I just have a few more months, and then I'll have completed my training and receive my certification."_

"_And will you come back then?"_ he had asked, not even bothering to hide his hope.

She looked up at him and he swore time stopped.

"…_Would you like me to?" _

He wanted to roar a resounding, "YES!" but instead, he smiled at her and prayed she could see the yearning and desire to be with her again in his eyes and on his face.

She smiled back and another beautiful blush colored her cheeks. _"It will be some time…I really need to concentrate on my studies—"_

"_I'll wait forever."_

Her eyes widened at his declaration, and a part of him worried that he had been too forward. He hadn't told her how he truly felt, how deeply she affected him and seemed to be the sole owner of his heart. But his worries melted away at the sweet smile she returned, before giggling back, _"I'm not asking for forever, just…four more months."_

At that moment her cab arrived, and with a heavy heart, he opened the door for her and helped her inside, as if he were an Edwardian chauffeur. She must have thought the same thing, because she murmured, _"thank you, Branson," _before winking at him.

His hands gripped the door for a moment longer than necessary, then forced himself to let go and close it. But just before the cab pulled away, she told the driver to stop and Tom wasted no time to lean in at the open window to find out why, and then all thoughts and manner of speaking were robbed of him (and quite possibly the very breath from his body) when she once again grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him in for a quick kiss. And this time, on the lips.

It was over before he had the chance to kiss her back (_properly_ kiss her back as he dreamed of doing), but even so, her kiss was sweet and he knew he would be thinking of nothing else for the next four months. He knew he would start counting the days, quite possibly the seconds, until she returned.

With a groan and stretch, Tom finally lifted himself out of bed and moved to the loo to start his morning routine. Yet he hadn't gone but a few steps before there was a pounding on his door. What on earth…?

He unlocked the door and hadn't even opened it completely before it burst open and William rushed inside. "Help!"

Tom stared wide-eyed at his friend. "What? What's wrong?"

"It's Gwen," William groaned.

Tom's eyes widened even more. "Is she alright? Is she hurt?"

"No—well, I hope not, I—I don't know!"

Tom frowned. "You're not making any sense—look, just calm down; have a seat and I'll make us some tea—"

"I can't sit," William shook his head. "I...I need to make things right—"

He moved as if to leave even though he had just gotten there, but Tom blocked his way. "William, calm down," he repeated, putting extra emphasis on his words. "Talk to me, what happened?" He hated to mention it, but he was starting to suspect. "…Did you and Gwen have a fight?"

William closed his eyes and sighed. Well, that pretty much answered that.

"Yesterday…" he began. "I ran into Daisy."

Tom winced, having an idea of where this was going.

"It was a complete accident; we were on the tube and saw each other. I didn't know what to do, I even thought of pretending as if I hadn't seen her, but knew that was stupid, so…so I offered her a smile and she smiled back, and then made her way towards me, and…and we talked. BUT THAT'S ALL, I SWEAR!"

"William," Tom intervened. "I believe you, I trust you." William was the last person on the planet who would cheat.

"…There were some problems on the tube; you know how they've been having closures on the Hammersmith line? Anyway, we all had to get off and Daisy was worried she wouldn't make it in time to her class—"

"Class?"

"Yeah, she's in cooking school!" William said with a smile, and he genuinely seemed proud for her. Tom couldn't help but smile back. "Anyway, she said something about her teacher being a right…well, her teacher didn't tolerate tardiness of any kind, and she was convinced she was on the woman's bad side already, so she decided to get a cab, and I followed her up out of the station intending to just walk the rest of my way, but Daisy realized she didn't have enough cash on her for a cab, and…and so I just dug into my pocket and gave her some money, and she was so moved by the gesture, she threw her arms around me and hugged me—but that's all! We didn't kiss or anything, I swear!"

"Ok," Tom nodded his head, not doubting William's words one bit. However he had a good idea to what happened next. "And then…?"

William's entire body seemed to sag and crumple then. "Gwen saw us," he groaned. "She was on the other side of the street and she saw both myself and Daisy leaning in, and…and thought we were kissing or something!"

"But did you explain to her that Daisy was just hugging you? I mean, I'm sure Gwen would understand—"

William was shaking his head. "No Tom, this is so much worse! I fucked up; I really, _really_ fucked up! Because Gwen didn't confront me then, I was actually on my way to see her, and…and I sensed something was wrong, but didn't question it, because I was so nervous—"

"Why?" Tom asked, and then William did surprise him as he tug into the pocket of his jacket and revealed a small, velvet box. He didn't have to open it for Tom to know what was inside.

"I didn't say anything about Daisy, I just acted as if nothing had happened, and I didn't realize Gwen was asking me questions, dropping 'hints', but I was so thick I didn't realize until it was too late. Gwen lost her temper and accused me of cheating on her with my ex-girlfriend, and…and…"

Poor bloke looked like he was going to cry. From what Tom could tell, he already had been.

"She wouldn't return any of my phone calls or texts; I went to her place, but learned from a neighbor of hers that she's gone—but I don't know where!"

"Alright, we'll get to the bottom of this—"

"I love her, Tom! I love her and I don't want to lose her, I…I was going to…" he looked down at the box again and like before, his face crumpled and new tears began to flow.

Before Tom could say anything more, his mobile started ringing. He saw Thomas' name flash up on the screen. "Look, can I call you back?" he sighed into the phone, but Thomas spoke right over him.

"_Is William there?"_

Tom glanced at William then brought his attention back to his mobile. "Yeah, he's here…do you know?"

"_Oh boy do I know,"_ Thomas muttered. _"Gwen texted me late last night and told me what happened—well, told me _her_ understanding of what happened. But I don't buy it, William would never—"_

"Did Gwen say where she was?" Tom interrupted, and at the mention of his girlfriend, William looked up.

"_She was on her way back to Yorkshire when she texted me," _Thomas answered. That was all the information Tom needed.

"Come on," he said, looking at William. "We're going to Yorkshire."

"_NOT WITHOUT ME!"_ Thomas shouted before Tom hung up.

* * *

It was Thomas' idea that they drive, but it was Tom who insisted on driving. Really, of the three of them, he was the best driver; William was still distraught, and Thomas could become easily distracted (especially since he wanted to hear about everything that had happened through William). Tom just concentrated on the road, though he couldn't help but think about the possibility, however small, that maybe, just maybe…he would see Sybil.

_Yorkshire's a big place_. But he knew where she was!

_York is a big place too_. Not as big as London…

_This isn't about you and Sybil, don't be so selfish!_ True…he had agreed to do this for William, to help William fix things with Gwen. Besides, Sybil was trying to finish up her nurses training; she didn't need him to distract her from her studies, and she had said that she would come back to London when it was all finished.

_I just miss her…_

God, how he missed her.

By the time they entered the Yorkshire countryside, Tom suddenly realized that the place Gwen had most likely gone was the home of Sybil's family. After all, Gwen's mum was the housekeeper there. Would the Crawleys be there? Would Tom see them? Meet them? And if he did, what would he say?

"_Hi, my name's Tom Branson, and I'm in love with your daughter. We've only met twice, but after dancing with her, I just knew deep in my heart that she's the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. And no, I don't have an estate of my own…or a title…or any kind of money; in fact, I'm rather against the aristocracy—"_

Yeah, probably best to not say that. Probably best to not say anything.

Less than an hour later, Tom started to see signs announcing the upcoming arrival of Downton Village, and even more signs for "Downton Abbey", which was clearly the biggest draw from a tourist's perspective in this area. The spires of the estate's towers were the first thing he saw, even though they were still a great distance from the village. "Holy shit," Thomas muttered, echoing Tom's thoughts exactly.

"What do we do?" William whispered, also staring at the estate with widening eyes.

"Get out and knock on the door," Tom answered as they drew closer.

"But what if she isn't here?"

"Only one way to find out," Tom murmured.

However, there was a slight hiccup to this plan. While Tom had been worrying about what to do or say should he by chance come across members of Sybil's family, he had never anticipated what he…or they…should do, if something were happening at the estate.

And something was.

"What the bloody hell is all this?" Thomas muttered, looking out the window at the large and lavish cream-colored tents, and men dressed to the nines in white tie and black tails, carrying trays of finger foods to the various posh folk who were gathered in the shade of these tents. "Did we wander onto the set of some ITV period drama?"

Tom ignored the strange looks coming from the various…caterers…and without word or thought, simply parked next to all the luxury cars off to the side and got out.

The three of them stuck out like sore thumbs; everyone around them was dressed in pristine whites and fashionable hats as if they were at Ascot. "Let's be quick," Tom muttered under his breath. It was clear, based on some of the confused and even harsh looks given to them that they were not welcome.

"Where do we even start?" William lamented.

"Look for red hair?" Thomas suggested. "Or we could try talking to bloke who looks like he's going to rip our throats out?"

Tom and William followed Thomas' finger to a large, burly-looking man that Tom could only conclude was the estate's butler (did that job still exist?)

If they ran, they would look guilty, and Tom had little doubt the man would call the police…or sic the dogs…or both, upon them should they try. So instead he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin and met the butler square in the eye as the man descended upon them.

"What is the meaning of this!?" the man gruffly demanded. "Who are you? Why are you here!?"

"Easy, Jeeves—" Thomas attempted, but the butler bristled at the nickname.

"We're looking for Mrs. Dawson," Tom cut in, casting Thomas a glare that told him to be quiet.

The butler's eyes narrowed. "What business do you have with her?" he demanded.

"We're friends of her daughter, Gwen," Tom went on to explain. "And…and we have some very important news to share with her."

The butler's eyes narrowed even further. _How can he even see?_ Tom wondered. "And that news is?"

William finally spoke up. "I'm her boyfriend."

The butler's eyebrows lifted.

"Meaning, I'm Gwen's—that is, _Miss Dawson's_ boyfriend."

The butler looked back and forth between William and the others. "And this is the 'news'?"

"No, well…I mean, I…I just really need to speak with her, I made a terrible mistake—"

"Indeed," the butler growled.

William swallowed. "Please, I…" he dug into his pocket and pulled out the box. He even opened it to show the butler the ring it contained. "I love her, she means everything to me, and I need to see her, to ask for her forgiveness and make things right and—"

"William?"

All eyes then turned to the familiar voice of Gwen, who was dressed similarly to the other caterers, and who was also holding a tray of some kind, while staring in shock and surprise at seeing them there…and then staring in even bigger shock at what William was holding.

"Oh…my…God…"

William fell to his knees then.

_"OH MY GOD!"_

She walked right up to the butler and thrust the tray she was holding into the man's unsuspecting hands. "Take it! _TAKE IT!"_ she all but ordered, not even looking at him, her eyes completely locked with William's and tears starting to fall as a tender, loving smile began to spread across her face.

William smiled back and began to murmur, "Gwen, I swear, nothing is happening between me and Daisy, we're just friends. You're the one I love, the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, the—"

Tom and Thomas (and the butler) had to jump back by the full force of Gwen tackling William when she threw her arms around him and started kissing him madly. Crisis adverted it would seem!

"I say that calls for a drink," Thomas muttered in Tom's ear. Tom smiled and nodded in agreement.

Before the butler could stop them, they quickly moved out of his vision and grabbed two champagne flutes from a nearby tray. "To the happy couple!" Thomas cheered, before downing his glass in one gulp. Tom chuckled and nodded his head in agreement, but unlike his friend, didn't down the champagne but rather looked back at William and Gwen who were smiling and kissing and murmuring various things to each other, all the while ignoring the people around them, including the butler who was giving them disdainful glares, and again his mind wandered back to Sybil, and the wonderful night they had shared four months ago, and how he knew then without any further doubt that she was the one for him.

_Don't you dare look back…_

No, he wouldn't.

"I need to go to York," he told Thomas.

Thomas frowned. "Wait, what? Why?"

Tom smiled at his friend and clapped him on the shoulder. "Destiny," he answered.

But Destiny had a mind of its own, because he hadn't even gone a step before the crowd in front of him parted and revealed a woman standing off to the side of a make-shift dance floor, in an elegant white dress like so many others, and looking right back at him.

Tom had always heard that before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. But in that moment, as he looked at her, his future suddenly flashed before his.

Sybil, in a different white gown, walking down an aisle; Sybil's arm linked with his as they were declared husband and wife. Sybil, her wild hair spread across the pillow as she gasped his name on their wedding night. Sybil working as a nurse, coming home at the end of a long day and telling him all about her shift. He and Sybil building a life together, owning a home together, painting a nursery together. Sybil, her beautiful body glowing from pregnancy. He gripping her hand, mopping the sweat from her brow, and then gasping with joy as their child was placed in his arms. The both of them dreaming, building, living for each other and their family, watching their children grow up, watching their children go forward in life and work for their dreams and making them a reality. The both of them being grandparents, their hair turning silver, their faces gaining wrinkles, their bodies bending over with age.

Sybil…dancing with him as she always did as they celebrated their 40th, 50th, 60th anniversary…

_This woman is my destiny._

He crossed the space between them as if his life depended upon it (and to him, it felt like it did, it felt like this truly was his last chance).

She smiled and opened her mouth, saying his name, but whatever words she was going to say next were lost, because he was kissing her then, creating quite a stir amongst the people around them, but they didn't care. She moaned and wove her arms around him, and his own tightened around her waist and the world around them began to spin.

When the kiss did end, a long, shaky breath escaped her lips. She clung to him to keep her balance, but Tom had no intention of letting her fall (or go, for that matter). She gazed up at him through hazy eyes, her face beautifully pink. Someone was saying something over her shoulder, but Tom found himself whispering to her, "don't you dare look back," which caused her to giggle.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she promised.

He grinned and leaned forward to kiss her again, but just before their lips touched, he murmured, "I love you."

To which she responded, "I love you too…now shut up and kiss me."

* * *

_One Year Later…_

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the bride and groom!"

Everyone applauded as the couple smiled and took to the dance floor, the bride leaning her head on the groom's shoulder, as he wrapped her tightly in his arms and they swayed to the music. Everyone watched and smiled and yes, there were even a few tears shed.

When the wedding dance had ended, everyone else was invited to join the bride and groom on the dance floor.

"Congratulations, _Mr. and Mrs. Mason_," Tom chuckled as he nudged his friends.

"Leave them be," Sybil giggled, pulling him away from the bride and groom, eager to have him all to herself. Tom didn't dare argue. "It was a beautiful wedding, don't you think?"

Tom nodded his head. "Aye; and the reception is quite grand too."

"Yes, well, Mama and Papa insisted that Gwen use Downton—free of charge, _of course_," she added, attempting to mimic her haughty grandmother.

"Very generous," Tom chuckled.

"Yes, the upper classes can be quite 'magnanimous' when it suits them."

"Like when posh earl's daughters take a chance on an Irish lad and ask him to dance with her?"

"Like when a nursing student recognizes her _equal_ in said Irish lad," Sybil countered, which brought a smile to his face and he couldn't help but pull her closer, kissing her deeply.

"Did I ever thank you for that dance?" Tom asked her when their lips parted.

Sybil grinned. "I think when you suggested we elope to Gretna Green that you made your thanks quite known."

Tom's thumb ran over the wedding ring on Sybil's finger. "Well, all the same…thank you; for dancing with me _and_ agreeing to be my wife."

"It's only fair, seeing as how you agreed to be my husband."

They both laughed and kissed again. Tom rested his brow against hers but found his eyes wandering to the grandness of the space around them, and not for the first time that day, found himself wondering if she missed not having all this. And as if reading his mind, Sybil answered, "I don't look back, you know…"

Tom's eyes met hers once again, and his cheeks blushed but his heart swelled at her words.

Her smile widened and her hands moved to cup his face. "I just keep my eyes on you."

"No holding back?" he asked her, his tone light and teasing.

Sybil grinned. "Never."

"Good," Tom murmured, before causing her to gasp as he dipped her. "Now, shut up and dance with me, Mrs. Branson."

**The End**


End file.
